


Dinner and a Murder

by imusuallyobsessed



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Halloween, Merlance, Murder Mystery, Theroy, it's more like scooby doo, it's not actually scary, olicity - Freeform, thearoy, westallen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 15:24:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8406880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imusuallyobsessed/pseuds/imusuallyobsessed
Summary: Felicity Smoak gets invited (forced) to a murder mystery dinner with Thea. Well, it's so Thea can flirt with Roy. Oh, and she's Oliver Queen's date. Never mind she's had a massive crush on him for years. It'll be fine. And it is, until their murder mystery dinner is interrupted by an actual murder.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is something I was inspired to write for this Halloween exchange. It was actually a dream I had that fits perfectly with this challenge! I hope you guys enjoy it as much as I do.

This had been a terrible idea. A no good, dirty, rotten, _horrible_ idea.

And she was only in this situation because of Thea.

Thea Queen, Starling City royalty, didn’t want to go to a murder-mystery dinner on Halloween weekend with her crush object _alone_. Oh, no. That would be too much like a date and Thea hadn’t decided how she was going to let Roy Harper know she liked him. They still had a few burrs in their relationship (her privilege and the massive chip on his shoulder, to name a few) but Thea had just so happened to get three tickets to the mysterious event and invited Roy and Felicity. Well, invited Roy. In Felicity’s case, _invited_ was a bit too tame a word.

_“You’re coming Smoak, or I’m telling my brother what a massive crush you have on him.”_

Obviously, Felicity had gone without much fuss after that ultimatum. Though, it wasn’t really such a trial. She got to dress up and spend an evening with her friends. Thea had taken the liberty of inviting Barry, her friend she met during a science conference in college, and his fiancée Iris. They decided to make a long weekend of it since they didn’t get to see Felicity very often. Felicity knew it was only to entice her to come even more, but it had been a while since she’d seen her Central City friends.

Oh, yeah, and she got to spend an entire evening as Oliver Queen’s date. _Fake_ date, obviously. Everyone had to be paired up for the dinner, Thea said, and Oliver hadn’t had anyone to invite when Thea ~~forced~~ asked him to go. Thea had offered Felicity. He’d accepted. Why not? They were friends. They’d been friends for a while. Her repressed feelings of ~~love~~ intense like definitely wouldn’t get in the way. Besides all that, what wasn’t to like? It was a murder-mystery dinner! How cool was that?

 _Not very cool_ was the appropriate answer.

Oh, it started out innocently enough. The dinner was a 1920s theme, so she and Thea had a ton of fun shopping for their outfits. Thea had even convinced Oliver to give Felicity an afternoon off from her duties as supervisor of the IT department (the youngest one in QC history, she was proud to say) to perfect their outfits. He relented, of course, with that gorgeous smile and a casual, _I’m excited to see what you get._

Thea spent the whole afternoon insisting Oliver was only looking at Felicity (or making heart eyes, as the younger Queen called it) when he said that, but Felicity refused to believe her.

But Oliver _had_ been pleased with her choice. Felicity could see it in his eyes when she walked into the Alderberry House the night before Halloween with Thea and Roy behind her. She’d chosen a red flapper dress, maybe a _bit_ shorter than was true to the time, complete with red heels, a long strand of pearls, and a black feather headpiece. When she appeared at the house with Thea – clad in an oh-so-chic, vintage women’s suit and newsboy hat – he’d greeted his sister briefly before running a hand over the red fabric covering her side almost reverently and murmuring _You look beautiful_. He looked so good, Felicity had taken several moments to formulate a response. The pinstripes on his suit were subtle, but definitely fit the mob boss character he was playing opposite her socialite.

Which was why she’d babbled, _“You, too. I mean, you don’t look beautiful, you look handsome. Not that you can’t be handsome and beautiful. And why are men being called beautiful a bad thing, anyway? Like, statues of men are considered beautiful and no one ever thinks anything of it.”_

Oliver had just smiled a smile so big and bright Felicity was momentarily stunned, like staring too long into the sun, before he took her arm and led her further into the house.

How Thea had managed to get her to agree to this remained a mystery. “It’s the thing, ‘Lis. Everyone’s a character and is supposed to have a date their part of the plot goes with,” had sounded really thin when Thea said it.

Felicity had been harboring a massive crush on Oliver ever since he did an audit of her department a year ago. On his first day, down from on high where the Queens lived, in a spare office, before anyone knew what he was doing, he’d called her in for a meeting. She’d barged in, going on about how he’d better not fire her because she was the most valuable employee in the whole department and then freaking out and begging him not to fire her for insubordination.

He’d laughed, smiled that soul-shifting Oliver Queen smile, and said, “Miss Smoak, if you’re half as good as Walter says you are, I’d be an idiot to fire you.”

It had all been downhill from there. Or uphill, depending. She’d never stood a chance against the compassionate, thoughtful, intelligent man he’d become in the wake of his father’s death several years’ prior, which had prompted him to get his life together after years of debauchery. He got a business degree and took his rightful place at QC, shifting between shadowing the supervisors of every department to learn about them, supervising each department for a short time to ensure he knew how they ran, to managing, to now being vice president of client relations, all in five years. Felicity knew it wasn’t what Oliver really wanted to do, but she was proud of the way he’d handled his grief and the void left by Robert Queen.

But this whole situation was totally out of hand. Felicity had been planning to spend Halloween weekend giving out candy to trick-or-treaters, watching old horror movies (because the new ones scared her too much), and binging on said candy and red wine. But then Thea, the invitation, and now this.

Locked in an old mansion in the middle of nowhere with the power out, no cell service, and a _dead body_.

And no, not the kind of dead body people expected at a murder mystery dinner. _A real one_.

She’d found it, of course. Who else? Naturally, she thought it was just something staged for the dinner. They hadn’t been given much information or instruction, except to enjoy the ground floor of the mansion until they were called to dinner. They hadn’t even met their host yet: only the head of staff Raisa and an under maid, Anya. Most of the guests were admiring the drawing room and entryway of the Alderberry House (aka: mansion), but Felicity had wandered aimlessly to the back of the house, admiring old photographs and the Victorian interior decorating.

So, when she’d come upon Anya’s body lying beside the open back door leading into the small back yard and dark forest surrounding the house, she’d just smiled and assumed the adventure was starting.

“Hey, guys!” she called, “I think I… _Ahhhh_!”

Her shriek sent the whole house storming her way, Oliver Queen in the lead, and they saw exactly what had set her screaming: an ice pick, which presumably belonged with the bucket of ice scattered on the carpet around Anya, was shoved deep into the woman’s neck. Blood pooled on the red and brown carpet, throwing the pallor of Anya’s skin into sharp relief. Lifeless brown eyes stared at nothing, her face contorted into a deathly shade of fear and shock.

“This is just… part of the dinner, right?” Barry Allen, clutching Iris a little bit closer. Her shocked eyes were locked on the body, holding Barry just as tight. They were playing a detective and a journalist, which had Felicity thinking their characters couldn’t be random coincidence.

Somehow, in all the confusion, she ended up in Oliver’s arms. His big, strong, _wonderful_ arms. It wasn’t that she hadn’t ever felt his arms before. They were friends. They hugged. Sometimes she used his shoulder as a convenient pillow when she logged too many hours at QC and crashed during movie and takeout night. But it was a bit new to just find herself…swooning into them.

“I don’t think so,” Oliver said before putting his hands on Felicity’s shoulders and giving her a once-over that definitely didn’t seem friendly or platonic. “Are you alright?”

Staring straight into his beautiful, deep blue eyes, Felicity could only nod and stammer, “I-I think so.”

“I’m calling the police,” Laurel announced, keeping one hand on Tommy and pulling out her phone with the other.

“Are you _sure_ you’re alright?” Oliver asked, his eyes intent and worried as they trekked over her body again before coming to rest on her face.

Felicity nodded, finding it slightly easier to cope now that she had her back to the dead body. All that blood was so… _ugh_. “I’m sure. Just…surprised,” she reassured.

His smiled, just a little, and it brought a whole new, melting warmth to his eyes. “I’d be worried if you weren’t,” he gently teased, and Felicity realized his hands had slid down her arms to take her own. Their fingers were entwined, clutching at each other. When did that happen?

“My phone doesn’t have any signal,” Laurel announced, moving a little closer to Tommy. “I can’t get a call out.”

Felicity immediately whipped out her phone, along with the rest of the group, only to find the same result. Their phones had no bars or even a 4G connection.

“Do you have a landline?” Felicity asked Raisa, turning to face the housekeeper.

The woman nodded, but her eyes were wide with fear. “Yes miss, but I already tried it. I think the line has been cut.”

“Internet?”

Raisa shook her head. “No… Nothing like that.”

Felicity bit her lip, trying to think of a solution. She didn’t have her tablet which was _totally_ legally hooked up to a satellite so she always had service, having elected (aka, Thea forced her) to only bring her phone so she wasn’t “distracted.”

As if she could read her mind, Thea interjected, “Now isn’t the time for ‘I told you so,’ Felicity.”

She turned to look at the younger Queen, taking just a moment to observe that she was safely tucked in Roy’s arms. Apparently, Thea’s original objective for the evening was going well. Roy’s character was a gambler and Thea’s was a fixer.

“Maybe I can piggyback a signal or something. How close is the nearest neighbor?” Felicity asked Raisa, turning back toward the older woman.

She shook her head. “About fifteen miles, miss. But it’s a campground. I don’t think they have internet, either,” she explained, somehow remaining calm despite the frantic fear in her eyes.

Felicity pursed her lips. Their phones were useless and she couldn’t hack any internet. What now?

“There’s nothing you can do?” Oliver asked, watching her intently until she shook her head. He nodded, obviously concerned but somehow making her still feel like she did her best and didn’t disappoint him. It was one of his CEO powers. He’d never blame someone for something out of their control.

“Alright, I’ll just take my car and get some help,” Oliver announced, moving with purpose toward the front door. The rest of the group followed, as helplessly in his orbit as Felicity. He had a natural air of authority and compassion, like he would do everything he could to make sure everything turned out okay. Felicity had seen it in action as he rose through the ranks at QC. Apparently, it applied to horrible life situations, too. Another CEO power, Felicity assumed.

Oliver was a man of action. It was one of the many things Felicity lo… liked about him. Liked a lot about him. Just liked, though. Nothing else.

The fact that she could have a mental babble monologue in the middle of a situation like this was ridiculous.

Oliver moved to the door with all the power and purpose he possessed in those gorgeous muscles, but it refused to bend to his will.

The door wouldn’t open.

Oliver rattled the knob again, pulling as hard as he could as he tried to turn the knob, only to meet the same result.

“It won’t open,” he announced to the assembly, turning to look at them with his brow furrowed, like he couldn’t believe something as insignificant as a door would thwart his mission.

Raisa bustled forward and attempted to unlock it with a brass key, all the while claiming she hadn’t locked it behind the last guests, only for it to remain stubbornly closed. They key wouldn’t even go into the lock.

“Back door?” Felicity suggested quickly, trying not to panic as she followed Oliver when he moved to take her advice.

Only for the door to slam fast as soon as they caught sight of it.

Oliver broke into a sprint, attempting to open the door and pounding on it a few times when it wouldn’t do what he wanted.

“What the hell is going on?” he asked, attempting to look out the dark, vintage windows and see what was keeping the door shut. Felicity did the same on the opposite side as Barry crouched in front of the door knob, pulling a magnifying glass out of nowhere to examine it.

“Looks like there’s something in there keeping everything shut. Some type of polyurethane substance, maybe,” he said, his eye mere inches from the keyhole.

“Why did you bring a _magnifying glass_ to dinner?” Iris asked, though she was crouched next to him on the floor as took a turn looking through the offending object.

Barry shrugged. “I thought it kinda fit with my outfit,” he said, brushing a hand along his brown tweed jacket with the leather elbow patches. “I’m supposed to be an investigator, right? That’s what my character card says. Besides, it obviously came in handy.”

“Guys?” Laurel announced, moving to the center of the group in a glittery, gorgeous movement that captured the light on her gold dress. She was playing a jazz singer to Tommy’s club owner. Felicity had asked if he planned it that way and he’d just winked.

“Where’s Anya’s body?” Laurel asked, proving once again that observational skills were not an inherent trait as everyone else in the room gaped at the empty floor.

The blood and ice bucket were still there, but Anya was gone.

“Okay, whoever’s in charge of this needs to cut it out,” Tommy announced, glaring around the hallway like someone was about to jump out and yell _psych!_ “This isn’t funny.”

The lights flickered in response, like they were laughing.

Then the power cut out.

Someone screamed in the darkness. Felicity couldn’t be certain who it was. It very well could’ve been herself.

Everyone scrambled, calling out for each other as only Thea and Roy had been touching already when the lights went out. Felicity found herself about to call Oliver’s name without even thinking when she felt his hand on her waist and the other on her shoulder.

How she knew it was him in the pitch-black darkness when she only felt his hands, she didn’t have time to think about.

“Is everyone okay?” Oliver called, pulling Felicity closer like he couldn’t bear having her so far away. Felicity was entirely willing to be more encircled in his big, strong, beautiful arms and lay her head on his chest.

“I’m fine,” Felicity replied, deciding to start the roll call.

Everyone else answered the affirmative, including Raisa.

“Why is this happening?” Felicity whispered quietly, mostly to herself, even though there was no way anyone in the room had any more information than she did.

“Hey,” Oliver said, somehow pulling her gaze to where she knew his eyes were fixed intently on her face even though they couldn’t see each other. “Everything’s going to be fine. Okay? I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asked, trying not to be defeatist but it was _hard_. Her heart was pounding so loud it basically became another person talking in the room, her palms were sweaty, and she was sure she’d be shaking if Oliver wasn’t holding her.

He paused for a moment. Felicity imagined he was smiling. “Because, I l – ”

“I found candles,” Raisa announced, coming back into the room with a warm glow surrounding her as she passed out candles to the assembly and lit them with her own. “I know you all have cellphones to light up, but they’ve not proven so reliable.”

Felicity was dying to know what Oliver was going to say, but he was already back in solve-the-problem mode and looked speculatively at the windows.

“Any chance of breaking those?” he asked Raisa, looking at the housekeeper intently.

The woman paused, then shook her head regretfully. “We installed plexiglass a few years ago after a break-in. It’s only treated to look vintage,” she said.

Oliver bit back a curse, viciously trying to keep himself under control as not to panic anyone else. They were all still talking among themselves, trying to think of a plan, and Felicity put her hand on his cheek to call his attention back.

“Hey,” she said, keeping her voice soft. “Everything’s going to be fine. We’ll figure this out. Together.”

Oliver sighed almost happily, staring into her eyes with… a look that Felicity didn’t want to dissect during whatever the frack was going on now.

“Together,” he agreed, putting his hand over hers and holding it to his cheek.

Felicity wasn’t entirely sure what was happening in this weirdly warm, pleasant bubble that only held the two of them, but she should’ve known better than to think it would last.

“Oh, Anya said this house was haunted! I knew I should’ve taken that job in the city when I had the chance!” Raisa exclaimed, starting to sounds the most frazzled she had all night. Felicity was impressed she’d managed to keep it together this long.

Everyone turned to look at the housekeeper. “Anya said it was haunted? When did it start? Did you ever see any evidence?” Laurel asked, lawyer cap firmly on and jazz singer persona abandoned.

Raisa sniffled a few times and Felicity walked toward her – regretfully leaving Oliver’s arms – and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “It’ll be alright, Raisa. Tell us as much as you remember,” she said gently, knowing Laurel’s rapid fire questions weren’t making this situation any easier for the poor woman.

Raisa sniffed a few times, dabbing at her eyes with a delicate, monogrammed handkerchief she pulled out of nowhere.

“Would it be better if we sat down?” Iris asked gently, stepping closer to the older woman with a gentle smile on her face.

Raisa nodded and the group moved to the large dining room table. It was set for dinner with beautiful china, but the food was long forgotten. Well, Felicity had to admit she was a little hungry, but the situation didn’t warrant snacks. Unfortunately.

Raisa sat at the head of the table with Laurel at the opposite end, with Tommy on one side and Roy on the other. Thea sat between Roy and Oliver, who sat next to Felicity. Iris was on Raisa’s other side, with Barry next to her with an empty seat between himself and Tommy.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning,” Iris said, taking Raisa’s hand that wasn’t holding the handkerchief. Felicity’s hands were clasped close to Raisa as well, in case the woman wanted to reach out.

Felicity tried very hard to focus on Raisa and not Oliver’s hand draped across the back of her chair so tantalizingly close to her shoulders.

“Anya has been working here for six months. She said in her interview she almost didn’t even come because she’d heard the stories about this place,” Raisa sniffed, dabbing at her eyes again before clearing her throat. Her Russian accent was getting thicker in her distress.

“Of course, there are stories. It’s an old house. Has been here for over 200 years. I never thought anything of it, but once Anya started, I noticed so many strange things. Footsteps when I was alone, things in one place, then another when I came back to the room, odd sounds at night. Things like that,” Raisa continued.

“You only noticed these things after Anya started working here?” Oliver asked. “Nothing before that?”

Raisa paused for a moment, as if thinking carefully about her answer, and nodded. “Of course, before Anya there were noises and creaks, but as I said, this house is old. Such things are expected. But after she started, everything got worse. Maybe she angered the ghost,” Raisa said, sniffling again and wiping her eyes.

“Ghosts don’t exist,” Barry insisted, glancing at Felicity before looking back to the maid and gentling his expression. “I mean, there’s absolutely no empirical evidence. Of all the people studying the supernatural, someone would’ve found something if there was anything to find.”

Felicity nodded. “Everything that’s ever been found has been debunked. It’s not actual science, it’s just fantasy that capitalizes on people’s fear of the unknown,” she agreed, content to be the voice of reason. It was easy to say she didn’t believe in ghosts and explain the lack of scientific evidence, but it was another thing entirely to be sitting in a pitch black house with a missing dead body, all their ways out mysteriously locked, and all cell signals jammed.

“Some things go beyond science and reason. To assume humanity knows everything about everything is the antithesis of discovery,” Iris murmured, not disagreeing or trying to start a fight, but also giving more weight to Raisa’s claims. Felicity and Barry always assumed people felt better when met with facts and figures, but in cases like this Iris found they just needed to be believed.

Raisa nodded, clutching Iris’ hand a little harder. “I did not believe either, Miss Felicity, but I have seen things in these months that defy explanation. I don’t know what else to think,” she said.

Felicity nodded, biting her lip to keep from asking more probing questions. Raisa hadn’t said anything about cold spots or anything else that tended to herald the supernatural in all those TV shows people watched, but it was best to just let her finish her story. Barry nodded as well, probably also biting his lip to keep from asking too many questions that obviously weren’t welcome now.

“But, this all only started after Anya came here,” Laurel murmured gently, obviously trying to get Raisa back on the task of her story.

“Has… Does Mr. Alderberry have any enemies?” Oliver asked, seemingly out of left field. Felicity turned to look at him, her brows furrowed, and saw his mind whirling behind his eyes. Oliver wasn’t traditionally smart, but it was foolish to think him anything less than intelligent. He knew how people worked and had an uncanny instinct for business and how to get what he wanted from people.

Raisa furrowed her brow and shook her head. “None that I can imagine. At least, not around here. Mr. Alderberry prefers his apartment in the city. He says the house reminds him of his late wife, but he can’t bear to sell it since she loved it so much. In the event of his passing, his will states it’s to be donated to the state on the condition that they keep it as a historical site, which they’ve already agreed to do. His daughter is CEO of AlderCorp now, though I’ve only heard good things about her business practices. His son is working with Doctors Without Borders in Libya and has been for a year,” she explained, but her voice trailed off before her eyes went wide. She gasped and looked up at Oliver.

“There was that man!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet in a hurry. The rest of the group followed suit as she moved from the dining room to the laundry/mud room off the kitchen. Felicity had to stop herself from snatching some food off the counter. Her stomach was growling and there was a mystery to solve.

“What man?” Oliver asked, stopping by Raisa when the housekeeper pulled out some letters from a drawer.

“He started with letters, offering to buy the house from Mr. Alderberry. The offers started out reasonably, but kept going up and up when Mr. Alderberry refused to sell. I did not read private correspondence, of course. Mr. Alderberry called to appraise me of the situation and told me that if a Mr. Slade Wilson should come by, I was to call him immediately and not allow him in,” she explained, giving the letters to Oliver.

“Then, Mr. Alderberry told me the letters were becoming more violent and threatening. Mr. Wilson very much wants this house. He even showed up a few times when it was just Anya and I here, but we called Mr. Alderberry and he got the police here to escort him away.”

Oliver glanced at the letters, reading the language as it escalated, then passed them to Laurel. Felicity leaned over the other woman’s shoulder to look.

“Why does Mr. Wilson want this house so badly?” Laurel asked. “These letters don’t say.”

Raisa shrugged. “I do not know, Miss Lance. I don’t even think he’s from around here, so the history probably doesn’t interest him. He has a thick accent… Australian, maybe. And he wears an eyepatch over his right eye,” she explained, obviously lost in her memories of the man for a moment.

Felicity was beyond frustrated that she couldn’t just do her technological magic and find answers. Then again, if she could do that, they would’ve been able to call the police by now.

“We need to find whatever’s jamming our phones,” Felicity announced. That was the root of their immediate problems, she decided. With their phones, they could accomplish so much more. With the lack of technology and electricity, everyone lit by candlelight, it really seemed like they’d gone back in time.

And Felicity had never been more thankful that she had the internet.

“But… if it’s the ghost, then…”

“We can’t think like that. There has to be a reasonable explanation for all this,” Felicity insisted, setting her jaw. “Once we disrupt the signal jammer, we can call the police and get out of here.”

Everyone nodded with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Obviously, some people were still firmly on the ghost train, but Felicity believed in science and logic. Whatever was going on, it could be explained. They just had to get to the bottom of it.

“We should probably split up. We’ll be able to cover the house faster that way,” Felicity ventured reluctantly.

Tommy laughed. “Isn’t that where things inevitably go wrong in the movies?” he joked, trying to cover his unease.

Iris gave him a look. “Be thankful you’re not the only black person at this party or a woman. If this _were_ a horror movie, your chances of surviving are statistically much higher than half the people’s here,” she delivered coolly, arching her brow when Tommy had the good sense to blush.

“No one’s… _dying_ ,” Barry insisted, looking scandalized that his fiancée would even suggest such a thing.

Iris rolled her eyes but smiled indulgently. “Of course not, Bar. I was just making a point,” she said, bending over to peck Barry on the lips before getting to her feet. “Alright, this place has three stories and a basement, right? How should we do this?”

“I’ll take the basement,” Felicity suggested when no one else said anything. She didn’t want to go into the dark, probably terrifying basement in the murder house, but she didn’t want anyone else to have to go, either.

“I’ll go with you,” Oliver quickly insisted, and Felicity swore he moved a little bit closer to her. He _did_ move his arm from the back of her chair to across her shoulders. His touch was electric on her bare skin and Felicity had to fight a sigh or a babble or something equally embarrassing.

She very pointedly ignored Thea’s sly look. Now was _not_ the time to be thinking about her relationship status. Even though Oliver being here made her feel a hundred times better about the whole actual-murder-at-the-murder-mystery-dinner thing.

It was decided. Iris and Barry would take the top floor with Raisa, Thea and Roy would take the second, Laurel and Tommy the ground.

Once they split up and Felicity was standing at the basement door – with Oliver only scant inches from her, though it wasn’t helping now – she realized what a terrible idea it had been.

“Why did I offer to go to the basement?” Felicity murmured, mostly to herself but Oliver turned to her. “I mean, what kind of crazy person offers to check the basement? They’re always the first ones to die in the movies. Oh, frack, I’m the idiot. I never thought I’d be in this position. I’m a genius! I’m a member of MENSA! I’m not the kind of person who offers to go into the basement. And I’m gonna get you killed too, Oliver, you really should just go with another group and leave me to – ”

“Felicity,” he said in that soft, warm way that was like a whole conversation in a word. It always stopped her babbles, and this time was no exception. “I promise you’ll be fine. Whatever’s going on here, there’s a way to explain it. Besides, I’d rather go into the basement with you than anywhere with anyone else.”

Oh, that was… _intense_. Oliver was always an intense person. It was how he kept people feeling like the center of attention, how he made everyone in a room feel important. When his attention was on you, it was _solely_ on you. Right now, it was singularly on Felicity. She’d been subject to the full weight of his attention before, but this time felt different. It was a bit too good to be true, but there was no exaggeration in his eyes. In fact, they were completely serious.

“Oliver, I…” Felicity, for once, had no idea what to say.

Oliver clenched his jaw, and if she was anyone else she would’ve missed the flash of hurt and disappointment in his eyes. “It’s fine, Felicity. Let’s focus on the mission,” he said, his voice going low and growly.

And oh, that voice did things to her.

She couldn’t let him think whatever had his eyes tight and jaw so defined it could cut glass. Felicity didn’t have the words, but that didn’t mean she had nothing to say.

Before Oliver could take a step, Felicity reached out and took his hand in hers.

He jerked around, his entire body angling toward hers as their eyes crashed together. For a moment, they weren’t trapped in a 200-year-old house with a dead body and whatever was causing this. They weren’t at a murder-mystery dinner with his sister, her ex-boyfriend and his current fiancée, or anyone else. They weren’t anywhere but with each other.

“Let’s do this,” Felicity said. Oliver nodded sharply and they both went into the basement.

Of course, it was creepy. Felicity didn’t know what she was expecting. The floor was concrete and the walls were stone. It was dimly lit with bare bulbs that barely penetrated the darkness, but Felicity could make out the shape of rows after rows of tall shelves filled with wine bottles.

“If this wasn’t terrifying, it’d be really nice,” Felicity murmured, clutching Oliver’s hand tighter as they slowly made their way through the dark basement. She pulled out her cellphone and used the flashlight utility to sweep the area for a signal jammer. Oliver did the same, but Felicity assumed it was mostly to help her since he didn’t know what a signal jammer looked like.

“You know, I have a really good wine collection at home,” Oliver said, his tone a little too calculated to be truly casual.

Oliver had only moved out of the Queen mansion within the past year. He now lived in a penthouse apartment in the financial district.

“I know,” Felicity said, glancing over at Oliver. “I’ve been to your house. Many times.”

“I know,” Oliver said quickly, looking over at her before going back to signal jammer hunting. “I’m just saying. If you wanted to come over after this… Not like, right after, since we’ll probably be tired. But if you want to come over and hang out or something.”

Felicity nodded slowly, trying to process what Oliver was saying. Sometimes, Oliver was more complicated than he thought.

“It’d be nice to relax after all this, I guess. And you always have good reds,” she agreed slowly.

He nodded, looking away from her and shrugging.

Before Felicity could figure out _that_ reaction, they heard a rustling at the other end of the wine cellar. IT sounded like fabric moving over the concrete floor.

They froze for a moment, sharing a glance before moving toward the noise.

Felicity barely managed to suppress a shriek when they rounded the corner and saw a shadowed back corner, complete with a ghost.

As previously stated, Felicity didn’t believe in ghosts. But being confronted with one would make a believer out of the staunchest denier.

The shriek may not have been entirely suppressed.

In a flash, Oliver was standing half in front of her, allowing her a view of the ghostly apparition but putting himself firmly between the two.

After a few more moments, Felicity realized their supernatural visitor was Anya. She was in pale clothes, a reflection of the outfit she died in. An icepick was still sticking out of her neck, tacky, black blood spilling down her pale skin and on to her clothes. Mist was her shroud and her eyes were cold and dead.

“Leave this place,” Ghost-Anya murmured, her voice quiet and hollow though her mouth never moved. “Leave this place and never return.”

Oliver started speaking, probably asking questions or something, but Felicity’s genius brain finally kicked in and a few things became abundantly clear. “Wait a second,” she said, slipping from behind Oliver to an almost-entirely concealed black box. One side was open, spewing the mist on to Probably-Not-Actually-a-Ghost-Anya.

Felicity picked up the box and saw a small, portable fog machine chugging away. Without pause, Felicity reached out and ran two fingers down Anya’s arm. They were now coated in a sticky grey-white substance, Anya’s healthy skin showing through in two finger-tracks.

Felicity looked up at the obviously-shocked not-dead housekeeper, then turned to Oliver. “She’s not actually dead,” Felicity declared, shattering the eerie mood of the basement.

All at once, Anya shoved Felicity to the ground and darted back, going toward the corner of the basement, and Oliver rushed forward. Thankfully, Oliver was faster. Before Anya could get very far, he had her subdued and her arms tied behind her back with a rope he’d somehow found in the dark basement.

“Okay, you’ve got some explaining to do,” Oliver growled, setting Anya firmly on the ground before he went over to Felicity.

“Are you okay?” he asked, running his hand down her arm as he helped her to her feet.

Felicity nodded slowly, doing a quick inventory of her body to make sure. There were a few scrapes from hitting the concrete floor, but overall she was fine. “All good. Even better now that I know ghosts really are fake. At least, this one is. I don’t want to think about the rest of the possible ghost population right now.”

Oliver chuckled helplessly, unable to do anything but smile in the face of one of her babbles. Even in the worst times, she knew how to make everything better.

“Come on. Let’s get the others and find out what’s really going on here,” he said, squeezing her hand before they went back upstairs.

Felicity gathered everyone back at the dining room table. Everyone was shocked at the reappearance of Anya, but their disbelief and relief quickly faded into anger when Oliver explained what happened. Raisa seemed especially offended.

“Alright,” Oliver said, his face especially sharp (and handsome) in the flickering candlelight. “Start talking, Anya.”

The Russian housekeeper looked mutinous. Her dark eyes glared at everyone seated at the table. “I’m not telling you anything,” she declared, her accent thicker in her anger. “You’re all going to regret this.”

“Regret what?” Laurel asked sharply, leaning forward like she was barely able to restrain herself from going full cross-examination on Anya. Felicity suspected Tommy’s hand was holding her arm under the table, keeping her grounded. Laurel had a habit of acting without thinking outside the court room.

Before Anya could answer, the front door crashed open and the sudden gust of wind blew out all their candles. In the instant of light, Felicity saw something more terrifying than any ghost: a huge man, standing tall in full-body black combat gear and a mask that was half black and half orange, split right down the middle.

In the darkness, before anyone could react to his presence, the man drew two swords that shone in the moonlight and launched himself toward the group.

Felicity scrambled back quickly, grabbing Barry and Raisa who were the two people within her reach. She knew her strength lay in her mind, not her physical abilities. If she could, she’d slip past the group and go get help, but they were fighting at the only way out of the house.

Oliver had decided his change of mind after his father’s death should accompany a change of body, and he’d been learning Krav Maga and other various martial arts types (Felicity stopped listening after the first few) for several years now. John Diggle, the owner of Spartan Gym, helped Oliver focus and find direction after tragedy struck. Laurel had been boxing for years, recognizing as a teenager that she needed healthy outlets for her emotions. Tommy had joined in after he and Laurel became an item. Iris was the badass daughter of a cop and could very much handle herself. It also helped that, though the man fighting them had some skill, he didn’t entirely know what he was doing with his massive swords. Like he was using them more to intimidate and when it hadn’t worked, he didn’t know what to do.

Despite that, he was still holding his own against the four people fighting him. Thea looked like she wanted to run in there and start fighting, but Roy was holding her back. Though Thea obviously had the will the fight, she had absolutely no skill and Felicity was thankful that Roy was keeping her back. Oliver would only be distracted if he had to worry about his sister.

Like a flash of inspiration, Felicity caught sight of a floor lamp at the other end of the room, furthest from the front door.

“Stay with Raisa,” Felicity told Barry, slipping away before he could ask where she was going.

Felicity stayed crouched low, moving across the dining room as fast as she could. Anya tried to get up from her chair – to what end, Felicity had no clue as her arms were still tied to her body – but Barry and Raisa quickly grabbed the young woman and subdued her. She’d probably interfere in the masked man’s favor.

The group worked together as a surprisingly cohesive unit, never getting in each other’s way. Felicity would’ve loved to stop and watch them work, especially Oliver with the way he moved in that delicious suit, but she was on a mission and wouldn’t be distracted.

Once on the other side of the room, she unplugged it from the wall and stood as slowly as possible to remove the vintage shade. She picked it up, keeping it upright to avoid suspicion from the masked man, and motioned to Oliver once he was in her sightline.

Somehow, he understood her frantic gesticulations and sharply shook his head, refocusing on the fight. Felicity rolled her eyes and motioned again, somehow managing to express that she was doing this with or without his help, but with would be a lot easier. With a heavy eyeroll, he nodded and began to maneuver the masked man toward her. The rest of the group fell in easily, keeping the man’s back to Felicity and his attention on them.

Once he was close enough, Felicity raised the floor lamp over her head and hit the man in the head with the heavy metal pole.

Felicity credited a mix of yoga and pure adrenaline with the fact that the man instantly dropped like a stone, unconscious.

 

* * *

 

Less than twenty minutes later, the police were swarming the scene and interviewing all the witnesses separately. Felicity managed to piece together the story from overheard conversations and Detective Lance, who had come with the cavalry as soon as he realized his daughter, future son-in-law, and a large group of people he’d come to grudgingly care about were there. Well, he would’ve come anyway. He was a detective and it was his job. But Felicity knew he came a little faster for them.

Anyway, Slade Wilson wanted the Alderberry House because, per surveys done of the surrounding area, it was on top of a huge oil field. If he could buy the land and drill for oil, there was a very good chance of him becoming even more exponentially rich than he already was. When Mr. Alderberry refused to sell, he enlisted the help of Anya to convince Raisa and anyone visiting that the house was haunted. When his plan started going south, he decided that killing the well-connected group that had come for a fun-filled evening of murder-mystery should get some actual murder. With all of them dead, Wilson would pressure Mr. Alderberry to sell and, in his grief and horror, the old man probably would have sold.

Now, Slade Wilson and Anya Petrova were going to jail for a long, long time.

“I don’t know about you, but I just want to get back to your apartment, Felicity, and sleep for the next twenty-four hours,” Iris said, leaning heavily on Barry as she spoke to the loose circle of friends.

Her friends were staying in her guest room. They’d all taken some time off to make a long weekend of their visit since they so rarely got to see each other. This was a terrible start to their trip, but Felicity had a feeling that they could turn it around.

Felicity nodded. “I know. I have a bottle of red and a pint Chocoholic ice cream waiting and I intend to become very well acquainted with both,” Felicity said, not even bothering to lift her head from Oliver’s shoulder to answer.

Oh, yeah, she and Oliver were, like…holding hands. And leaning against each other. It happened as soon as she knocked out Slade Wilson, and only stopped when they’d both given their statements to the police. Since then, Felicity was reluctant to leave his side and from the way he stuck close to her, she assumed Oliver felt the same way.

“Not mint chip?” he asked, looking down at Felicity with that small smile that never failed to make her melt.

She shook her head, rubbing her cheek against his (probably) expensive suit without a care in the world for foundation smudges. “Tonight calls for chocolate,” she decided.

“Hear, hear,” Laurel said, standing up straight and announcing, “On that note, we’re gonna go home. See everyone later?”

Everyone murmured agreements and the duo walked to their car and drove off.

“Do you want to go, Speedy?” Oliver asked Thea, sounding almost reluctant to ask but wanting to make sure his sister was okay.

Thea shared a glance with Roy before she smiled and looked back at Oliver. “Actually, Roy are I are go get dinner since we never actually got to eat in there. See you at home, bro,” she said, running up and giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before, true to her name, speeding off with Roy. Felicity almost swore she heard Thea murmur, “Unless you’re otherwise occupied” to Oliver, but she couldn’t be sure. Either way, Oliver was blushing pretty profusely.

“Us, too,” Iris said quickly, giving Felicity a quick hug and waving to Oliver. “See you guys later.”

It was only after they left that Felicity remembered, “Wait, I was their ride…” a quick check of her small, beaded clutch revealed, “and they took my car keys. How rude. For a cop’s daughter and a CSI, that’s pretty delinquent behavior Why would they do that? I didn’t know Iris had such sneaky fingers. Though, I guess it could’ve been Barry, but I doubt it. He’s kind of all over the place.”

Felicity very much didn’t want to acknowledge that it left her alone with Oliver and no other option but for him to drive her home. That was probably why she was babbling.

“Would you like to go to dinner with me?” Oliver blurted before his eyes went wide, like he couldn’t believe he’d said that.

He went to pull away, but Felicity gripped his other hand. He wasn’t getting away from her that easily. “Like a date?” she asked quietly, a smile at the corner of her lips.

Oliver’s hands gripped hers tighter, and though he was obviously flustered, he met her gaze directly. “I mean… The implication being that, with dinner…”

“Usually I’m the one talking in sentence fragments,” Felicity said, a full-blown smile blooming on her face.

Oliver grinned back helplessly, like he couldn’t possibly _not_ smile. “Felicity, would you like to go on a date with me?” he asked, much more confident than the first time.

Felicity nodded. “This doesn’t count, right?” she asked.

Oliver rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t think the murder-mystery dinner gone wrong where I had to beg my sister to get you to come counts as a date,” he responded. “What about Italian? Everyone likes Italian, right?”

Not even thoughts of rigatoni and breadsticks could distract her from what Oliver said. “Wait, you made Thea ask me to come?” she asked, stepping closer to him. Their bodies brushed at every point, light a delicate contact that set Felicity’s skin on fire.

Oliver blushed. The CEO of Queen Consolidated, one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive, who easily topped Forbes’ 30 Under 30 list for the past three years, _blushed_. If Felicity had anything to say about it, he’d be doing that a lot more.

“I really wanted to ask you out, but I knew you’d freak out because we’re coworkers and I’m technically above you at QC but we don’t work on the same teams or anything, and you worked so hard to get where you are and I didn’t want people to think anything about your promotion. So I thought this would be like…practice. And once you saw how good we were together, you wouldn’t be able to say no when I asked you out,” he explained in a rush, like he’d been wanting to tell her for a while and wanted to get it all off his chest at once.

Felicity blinked a few times, needing a moment to process the information. Oliver took her silence as a bad thing.

“I didn’t mean to deceive you. Or manipulate you. Or anything like that. I just – ”

“Oliver,” she said, using his name the way he so often used hers. He shut his mouth instantly, his blue eyes searching hers for any sign of how she felt.

She couldn’t leave him in suspense.

“I’ve had a crush on you since the first time I saw you. And I’ve…liked you a lot since the very first time we both stayed late at work and you ordered food when I said I wouldn’t eat until I got home,” she said in a rush, unable to help the incandescent smile that split her face.

“Maybe not Marco’s tonight, though,” Oliver said, settling his hands on her hips and pulling her closer with a slow smile.

Felicity agreed. Marco’s was delicious, but it was also a hole-in-the-wall where patrons gave you the side-eye if you wore anything fancier than jeans.

“How about my place? I’ll cook. And you can wear sweatpants,” he offered. Felicity smile back. Like she could do anything else in the presence of a smiling Oliver Queen.

“Won’t the paparazzi splash pictures of Ollie Queen and a ‘mystery blonde’ all over the tabloids if we do?”

“Is that okay with you?” he asked, serious and sincere. Felicity felt her heart warm that Oliver didn’t care if everyone in the city knew that he was taking her on a date. And they probably would, since the paparazzi had a weird obsession with him. Well, maybe not weird. His face was pretty obsession-worthy.

“Well, we’ve already talked about everything you talk about on a first date. And second date, and third date, and…probably every date. But… yes. I’d love to have dinner with you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it! Please leave me a comment and kudo if you enjoyed it. My tumblr is imusuallyobsessed if you want to check me out on there. I'd love to hear from you! And go check out my other stories if you enjoyed this one.


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